Second Chances at Love for Mirai
by StarbearerTM
Summary: What if instead of going to the past with the Time Machine, Future Trunks instead used a spaceship to go to New Namek? And when he arrives, will they even know who he is, and be willing to help? MG/MT shonen
1. Chapter 1

**Second Chances for Love**

Pairing: Future Gohan X Future Trunks  
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Future Gohan, or Future Trunks. Akira Toriyama does. This is fan fiction, and means no harm to the anime or manga.

Notes: This story contains shonen-ai but no lemon. Don't read if you don't like such pairings. This is Future Gohan and Future Trunks. Written for a contest at Boxer and Rice with ideas given to me by Lord Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

by StarbearerTM

**_Chapter 1 In Transit_**

* * *

The first awareness that came to the youth was the feeling of sterile cold air. Lavender lashed eyes slowly flickered open, and their owner turned onto his side. One muscular arm landed across the length of the bed, judging it narrower then it normally should be. Shaking off sleep like a blanket, the youth blinked into the shimmering curve of metal wall that emerged from the blur of morning vision. The distant hum of a power unit vibrated the entire tiny world that was now his temporary home.

Sliding his hand under the pillow, he touched the thin film of the picture he had slipped there. Quickly he pulled out the photograph, his pounding heart relaxing a few beats to realize he had not lost this piece of memory. Though it was a bit dog-eared, he often gazed upon it longingly before he would fall asleep each 'night'. His arms were wrapped around the waist of one who loved him as no other would then or since, and to whom he had made a silent promise.

Just how many days had passed inside the metal shell of the Capsule spacecraft, he wondered. Pressing a kiss to his fingertips, he touched them in turn to the mouth of the dark haired dream in the picture. Anyone else who saw the picture would simply see two young men stumbling and laughing in each other's arms, with a shared look of surprise and triumph on their faces. Yet through the eyes of the youth, he saw far more represented there. One who had been older brother, father figure, and lastly and most importantly the love of his life.

Granted it was a short and harsh existence, only the span of a few years long, but seemed double its span considering the events marking it. Tossing aside the covers cocooning him, the lavender haired youth swung his legs around and pressed the bare soles of his feet to the chilly floor. Artificial gravity still functioned well, he noted, feeling the weight of his own body under 1 Chikyuu G as he stood. He turned only to slide the picture back under his pillow and to tug the sheets up to straighten the bed. Just why he performed such tasks was simple; engrained in his mind from a young age were the rituals that his mother and later, the one he loved had told him were important reminders of normalcy.

After stowing the picture, he then glided his arms and legs to stretch out training sore muscles. Only a few days could he spend in one G before he would try upping the field strength. The destination was still months away, a quick glance at a battered paper calendar taped to the wall near his bed told him. His crystal blue eyes fixed on the black field of hot white points visible through the round windows of his 'world'. Reaching through the clothing he found a T shirt bearing the Capsule logo, and a pair of loose sweat pants to wear that were recently cleaned from the ship's onboard laundering cycle. To reach them he had pushed aside a hanger bearing the dark blue jacket and pairs of pants neatly folded. Landing would be days off, and it seemed silly to try wearing something heavier then what he now pulled onto his muscular body.

Movement out of the corner of his eye only temporarily caused him to jolt. Snapping his head around he saw his own reflection, long purple strands of hair falling around his young face. It had grown considerably since his start at Earth, and Trunks found little need to trim it. Besides, something inside told him he wanted few reminders of his former self.

Striding up to the mirror, he peered at his image, judging that other side of himself that was unproven and found wanting. Still if he ran his fingers over the back of his head, he could remember the throbbing bump dealt to him, along with the unfortunate gift of unconsciousness that preceded the shattering of his hope. Initially shattering into zillions of fragments, the visions now awaited reconstruction in the promise of his mother's inventive genius.

While she had put most of her dreams into a Time Machine, Trunks had suggested an alternative plan. Granted they had shreds of Saiyan Technology still in the battered ruined labs of Capsule underground, but a Time machine required great amounts of energy to recharge, while a space ship already still existed in the battered hanger.

Trunks frowned, pounding his fist into the flat of his hand. He fought against the onslaught of images that were newly formed from the repeated dream. How many times would he have to relive the last movements preceding his' hope's first shattering? If he closed his eyes, he could smell the stony scent of the falling rain drenching his hair, which was short at the time. Pushing his fingers into squelching mud in an attempt to rise and rush to where he knew he'd find his love.

Love was something that was a grounding force in a crazy existence. When you didn't know which moment would be your last, you would hang onto it with both hands and not let go. The warmth of a body upon which you had depended your life and gave your life in return was the measure of its intensity. What had started as mutual respect and great affection only veiled the true force of his motivation. For his love, he now ventured into the unknown, and for his love, he would have gladly gone in his place.

Toes slammed into mud, running along the ruined buildings to see where the figure lay face down. His heart pounded as his senses registered no ki, an absence that grew like a black hole. Passing his arm under his lover's neck and raising it out of the mud, stroking dark fronds of soft hair matted with mud from his handsome face. Only to see the lifeless eyes vacant and staring into infinity up at him, but not seeing him. Alternatively, the trail of blood that dripped from the corner of his shapely mouth. A mouth that he longed to taste, and knew the counters of as he lowered his lips to them and struggled to breath his own life into his lover's lifeless body.

"Damn it, breathe," he whispered, between attempts to fill the muscular chest, which rose and fell under the ripped orange and blue cloth. Tears festered hot in his eyes as he felt them dripping onto the tanned skin that reminded him of light cinnamon, each angle burned forever into his brain at that moment. The lump in his throat growing to the size of a softball to choke off his hitching breath as he wrapped his arms around the body that was now cold and lifeless.

No amount of shaking, coaxing or soft ministrations would return what was now gone. All he could do was to clutch his love closer, pushing his face into ebony short hair and tremble with weeping rage. He cursed himself for not having the strength to join him in death, or take his place. Hadn't he given his entire will? The screams of his name from the lips that quivered, "Gohan!"

Now only a whisper came from his lips and echoed in the cabin, "Gohan."

Whispering that name gave him hope, and great dread. For Gohan he would do anything. For Gohan he would face hell itself.

"It should have been me, love," he whispered. "Damn it. It should have been me. If I'd only been stronger…" Trunks whispered, wrapping his arms around his chest and hugging himself tightly. Swallowing hard he pushed away the hard memories and reached deep for ones far more pleasant. Death was only temporary if he achieved what he had set out to do.

Long ago Mother had taught him that through memories of loved ones, a person achieved immortality. As long as one spoke the name and carried the impressions from life to life the person would continue to exist. Such was the belief of ancestor worship. Goku's memory lived on in his son, Gohan. In turn, the memories of his father Vegeta lived in his own mother's brain. The blood of a Saiyan prince flowed in his veins, but it was a heritage that Trunks accepted with trepidation.

Just what it meant to be Saiyan depended on the point of view. All his definitions of Saiyan came from the stories of Son Goku, and the lessons taught to him by Gohan, his mentor, friend, and lover. Carrying the hopes and dreams of so many fighters was a burden Trunks was unsure he could shoulder. Memories and love gave him strength, and had pulled the hidden power out from the depths of his outraged soul. Unfortunately, great power without tempering was useless against the Androids.

Reaching around his neck, Trunks fingered something dangling there on a chain. A single capsule tapped against his chest, containing something of great import. Were they hopes and dreams of a civilization, or something more? Through him, Gohan lived on, and because of him, if all went well, his lover would again breathe and fight as he was meant to do.

"Dead fighters won't help, Mom," Trunks had said.

"But Trunks," his mother protested, swinging her head from under the panel of the time machine that day. "If I can go back and stop Goku from ever getting sick, then there's the chance this will never have happened?"

"Then what happens to us, Mother. I don't mean to be selfish, but will we even exist as we do now?" Trunks asked, thinking immediately of the consequences of monk eying with time. "Do we even DARE play God when there are other possibilities?"

Straightening up, Bulma grabbed a rag from her pants pocket and wiped grease from her hands. Smudges of black graced her alabaster skin, two shades lighter then Trunks. She blinked at him, twisting the rag between her fingers, "Trunks, what are you saying?"

"Mom, you said there were other Dragon Balls. How about those on New Namek?" Trunks asked. "Why put all our eggs in one basket when there's another solution we haven't even pursued?"

"Surely you don't mean…"

"Mom, it's far greater a possibility that I'll make it to Namek. It's months away, but wouldn't you rather bet on that… and bringing Gohan back to life before the year is up?"

"Trunks… that's insane…"

"Just think, if I bring Gohan back to life, then you can send one of us to the past for help. Besides, I owe it to him after what happened."

"When are you going to stop blaming yourself for his death, Trunks? It's unfair!"

"Don't tell me what's fair Mother," Trunks inhaled, seeing the anger sparkling in his mother's eyes.

"Even if you did reach New Namek, there's a chance something could have wiped out the Namekians there," Bulma swallowed hard.

"But getting a space ship ready can't be any more difficult than a time machine? Especially since there are some with enough time I could get working," Trunks said quietly. "Please Mother…"

"All right, Trunks. We will try it. However, I can only give you two weeks of my time. If we can't get a ship ready and working in that period, then I must give full priority to the time machine," Bulma relented.

"I'll give you all the help I can. I've already made a start," Trunks confessed. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and she realized how fast he was growing.

"So that's where you were going off to. I was afraid you were hiding in your room, but you were rebuilding a spaceship?" Bulma half chuckled.

His mother's work could have carried him into the past, but he would rather face a certain future that he owned to the one he loved most. Gohan deserved to live here and now, and together they would rid earth of the monsters that one Saiyan alone could not beat. Only a year could pass before this reality would forever collapse, and the Time Machine would be the other alternative.

Bulma had agreed she would rather him face the depths of space then the winds of time. She would rather lose herself in its past, then her own son. A two-month voyage to Namek was a greater certainty having done it herself rather than an uncharted course to nowhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Second Chances for Love

_Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z, Future Gohan, or Future Trunks. Akira Toriyama does. This is fan fiction, and means no harm to the anime or manga._

Notes:

This story contains Yaoi, male/male. Don't read if you don't like such pairings as I do. This is Future Gohan and Future Trunks. Written with ideas given to me by Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

* * *

Chapter 2 Close Quarters

Of all sensations, Trunks could readily return to, that of taste and smell were the most primal. Just by retreating a small distance into his memory he could call up the taste of Gohan's lips, and the smell of his slightly sweaty body. Nothing or no one else had the same distinctive scent, which was a slight tang of spice and tingling energy. These two recollections then provided the framework upon which Trunks could call up the image he had constructed in his mind's eye, through which Gohan would continue to live.

_Many days filled up with the endless pace of training. Despite his mother's trepidation, and at his insistence, Trunks wanted to fight back. Why shouldn't he join the battle considering that they were the only two with Saiyan blood still alive? The future depended on their survival, and it only seemed rational that Trunks take his rightful place at the side of Earth's now strongest warrior._

_Just thinking of him made Trunks heart skip beats. Lately he couldn't stand the thought of not spending as much time as he could around him. Hope renewed standing in his shadow, and in his presence. Both of them shared the bond of half Saiyan blood, and the burning desire for justice. To run and fight another day, or face the scourge of the Androids was the dilemma. Only by escaping to lick their wounds and protect what remained of the human race could they have any chance of defeating the menace that plagued them all. _

"_Trunks, are you listening?" sounded the voice through the nervousness._

"_Of course," he answered, his eyes taking in the sight of the ebony ones. He could not see his own reflection in them. They reminded Trunks of a starless night or the darkest mahogany wood. Yet they shone far brighter than anything pretty that remained in their world._

_Was it his imagination when he felt those dark eyes staring at him with a heat that reached him greater than the sunlight beaming through the holes in the roof? As the muscular hand clamped down on Trunks shoulder, he felt minute sparkles of electricity tingling in their wake. Trunks felt the warmth in his touch, and felt his heart pounding as the gi-clad body approached his._

"_I just can't trigger it, Gohan," whispered Trunks, glancing up at him. Gohan's dark brows furrowed, not marring the angular perfection in his face._

_There was no quality of sapphire that held the glint in the younger boy's eyes. Trunks in his sight was perfect. From the curve of his neck to the slenderness of his form that was just beginning to sprout with muscle. Not too muscle-bound was he, yet just enough to feel solid and reassuring when their bodies happened to press close. They would have to be fools not to realize the bond that grew ever stronger between them. A depth of feeling existed from which they both derived their greatest strength. It choked at his soul to see those blue eyes wide with fear of failure, far greater than his fear of death at the hands of the Androids._

"_It's strong emotion, primal and deep. Like a switch thrown inside," Gohan whispered, rubbing his hand down Trunks shirt clad shoulder. "You need to take all your anger, all your outrage and focus it to a narrow point. Then you let it explode in every cell of your body."_

"_I hate them so much, and still it's not enough," Trunks whispered, glancing up at Gohan's dark eyes. Again, he felt himself fixed into their depths. Even the scars seemed to increase the handsomeness of his angular features. His lip firmed as he clenched his teeth and glanced away from Gohan. Deprived of the beauty of Trunks eyes, Gohan frowned._

_Those eyes shouldn't see such sorrow. Yet their world was rife with nothing but daily doses. Such eagerness Trunks possessed, and it was a welcome salve to Gohan's torn and hardened heart. Half of him wanted to lock Trunks away, keep him safe and innocent of such grief, while the other half wanted to protect him with every lesson they shared together. Fighting kept them together in the days, but Gohan knew how much he wished their nights…_

"_Trunks, what's wrong?" asked Gohan, his face serious as he penetrated that sapphire gaze again._

"_I don't want to let you down! I want to fight them as much as you do. Please I have to fight. But I want…"_

"_I know," Gohan answered, putting voice to the quivering words trembling Trunks young chest against his own. "It's love that triggers the change. Love and loss that leads to anger, and a focused rage. A frightening depth of feeling that few reach."_

"_Gohan, I don't want to fail. I couldn't stand the thought of all the training being for nothing. I don't' want to let you down… but I can't…"_

"_You will. However, pushing yourself until you drop's not an option. I know you've been training even when you're not around me. You want to take them on with me. But you're not ready yet…"_

"_Promise me you won't go fight them alone Gohan, promise me," Trunks whispered, squeezing him around the ribs tightly._

"_I promise I won't fight them without you knowing first," Gohan answered, his body tingling at the embrace of his student. For only a moment, they eased the embrace, their eyes again meeting. _

"_Don't try to trick me like that. Don't screw with me Gohan," Trunks whispered fiercely. "I can see it in your face. You want to leave me behind. Are you holding back on giving me the answer because you think…?"_

"_No, I'm not, Trunks. You know better than that!" Gohan glared at him, releasing Trunks from his embrace. _

"_I have to know, Gohan! Everything is telling me that you'd rather leave me behind and take them on yourself! I don't know why, but …" Trunks trailed off. He pushed against Gohan's chest, trying to break away only to have Gohan's strong hand lock around his wrist._

"_Don't make me promise something I can't deliver on, Trunks. I'd do anything to make sure you and Bulma were safe. Sometimes it's better if you stay alive then die next to me. You have to face the fact that one of these times I might not come back… and it's no good if you get in the way without reaching it," Gohan answered._

"_Damn it, Gohan, don't do this," Trunks whispered. His jaw twisted in anger, but Gohan shook his head. How stupid could he be, giving him such hope and yet causing such pain on his student's face? _

"_Hatred's only half of what you should feel, Trunks. It's not hatred; it's the strength of the emotion. My dad triggered the change not just out of hatred, but also out of love. For his best friend," Gohan explained, raising one hand to push aside a lock of lavender hair and tuck it behind Trunks ear. Trunks felt the soft brush of rough hands on his smooth flesh and then angled his face to the side. Some sudden impulse drew him to brush his lips to Gohan's fingers._

_Gohan sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the petal soft contact. Trunks blinked up, wondering if he had done something wrong. As he backed away, Gohan's hand still pinned him down, increasing in its grip._

"_I… it's nothing. Just forget it, " Trunks whispered, wanting to voice what his young feelings were screaming, but hoping that Gohan would share. It seemed only natural, only right that the desire and the need would grow to stand not just by his side, but reach out to comfort him in other ways._

_To his surprise, Gohan pulled him forwards, seeing the lost look and fear in Trunks' face. The impulse to protect and shelter overrode any reservations. He could feel Trunks need for reassurance, it equaled his own. It was not enough just to train him, spend time with the neophyte warrior. Rather he wanted to give so much more, but Bulma might not understand._

_Just because she had lost, her love didn't mean that Trunks should be deprived of the strength of that emotion. Trunks felt the lump in his throat as Gohan's strong arms pulled him close. He pressed his cheek to Gohan's chest, and then wrapped his arms around Gohan's strong waist. Gohan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Trunk's lavender hair._

"_Don't," Gohan whispered. "It's not wrong."_

"_I don't want to face them without you Gohan. Don't make me do it. Don't leave me… alone," Trunks whispered._

"_Not now, any way, Trunks," whispered Gohan. "I don't want to see you dead. Because I don't' want to lose you too. Not when my training could keep you alive."_

"_Gohan, don't you do something stupid like face them yourself!" Trunks demanded. "Promise me!"_

"_All right," Gohan raised his hand and gave him a slight smile. "I promise not to take them on without you at my side. Damn you're just as stubborn as your mother."_

_Trunks only answer was a small grunt, before he fell into Gohan's comforting embrace. What had seemed like the need for warmth between two bodies was far more then he could anticipate. The secure sensation of Gohan's arms enfolding him and the gentle caress of his hands along Trunks back was worth the pain and the fear of losing him. Especially since Gohan made no move to push him away and ruffle his head._

"_I don't want to lose you Gohan. I couldn't stand it. Not after everyone else."_

"_Nor could I," Gohan answered, hushing him with soothing motions. He bent his head down to see the gleam in Trunks eyes. It seemed only natural yet again to brush his lips against the boy's forehead, and marvel at the quickening heave of his breath. Trunks tipped his head back, exhaling into Gohan's neck with hot pulses. His own hands were gliding along the smooth hard muscles under Gohan's red and blue gi, amazed at their texture._

_Inclining his head, Gohan turned his face to the side, and then brushed his mouth over Trunks before the youth could utter another protest. The taste of Trunks soft lips was far sweeter then he could imagine, and the press of his slender body into Gohan's muscular one was sheer joy. Trunks raised his hand to plunge into Gohan's short hair, and grip the back of his neck while Gohan diverted is right hand and cupped the back of Trunks head. Sliding his finger through soft silky purple, he enjoyed tangling his fingers in his students… no his lover's soft hair._

_So many emotions Trunks wanted to convey, he knew that Gohan shared them as their lips merged, and their breaths moistened their respective palates. Gohan tasted of stone and rain, while Trunks tasted faintly of that strange tingling antiseptic mingled with the sweetness of water. How soft his lips were, Gohan realized as he mapped them out for this time. It wasn't the first time they had shared a strong sweet kiss. Nor the forces of a protective and passionate embrace._

_Gohan didn't want him to die because he loved him. As much as Trunks loved him in turn. For that love, his heart soared and he would do whatever he could to keep it alive. He would tear his fingers through android flesh and rend it asunder if it meant protecting Trunks. They would not destroy the last beautiful thing in this world that he cared about more than even the existence of the humans he swore to protect._

_Reluctantly the sealing of their lips ended for breath. Resting his forehead against Trunks, Gohan panted deeply. Trunks felt his cheeks flushed, and Gohan saw how lovely the faint tinge of red in alabaster skin appeared. Alternatively, the curve of the fluttering lashes veiling those blue eyes. Sliding his arm around Trunks hip, he gently nudged the boy to walk alongside of him. _

"_We'd better get some rest, love," Gohan murmured, the word not sticking in his throat. Trunks nodded, not wishing to let go of Gohan's hip. _

_Arms around one another, the two young men strode towards the nearest entry to a labyrinth of catacombs. Much like gophers, the human race had adapted to life below ground, forming a resistance cell of sorts. As more people lost their homes, they sought refuge in a place unmolested by the fear of imminent death._

_Capsule had a warren of underground tunnels that accessed the subway system under West City. Bots and other droids had extended the caverns where more refugees huddled every day. Past the makeshift sheets hung to provide walls the two walked, hearing the whisper of voices and people peering from around the sheets. Some of them waved to the duo, and Gohan gave a strong confident smile back. Just the sight of him was enough to evoke slight positive expressions in weary faces, so they could slip back into their family groups again. Further along the tunnels were access points guarded by bots or people wearing battered armor. Gohan's karate gi and Trunks Capsule clothing admitted them with little question. _

_As times, before they slipped to the place where Gohan called his own. Not far from Trunks, but not far from his own mother and grandfather. Although he often ate meals with and spent nights under the roof of his childhood home, he sometimes needed the security of an alternative place to bunk due to the danger of traveling in the open air. When Androids rushed about, it was far easier to not draw attention to your home by flying merrily about under the open skies. Naturally, Bulma had offered Gohan a room at Capsule to stay when he wished, and the young man gladly availed himself of it. _

_Chichi spent many days helping the refugees in her own fashion, using her brand of herbal medicine to supplement Capsule's dwindling supply of antiseptics. More often than not, there were times he could see her, moving among the newly wounded dabbing sweat from many a brow. Her hair was tied back in an austere fashion, and her quick furtive embrace as they passed by spoke far more than any definition._

_She knew better then to question why he fought. Long ago, any attempts to have her son be the scholar were rebuffed. She hadn't spoken much since the day he'd died. Over fifteen years ago, and it was still as fresh as before. He hadn't lived long after the androids had attacked the small village Gohan and his mother called home. Only a baby, the youth soon died after the brunt of the blast._

_He would have been one year younger then trunks. His name was Goten. _

_Yet today he knew his mother was safely at home with his grandfather, the Ox King. Hiding in secret to grow her herbs in their garden tucked away in the remote mountains. So far, the Androids frequented populated places, not rough wilderness. Rather they enjoyed tormenting people as a source of amusement. Sometimes they would retreat to parts unknown, but always would find a need to cause mayhem._

"_Your room or mine?" Trunks whispered to Gohan. _

"_Yours is closer," Gohan answered matter-of-fact. Through the interior tunnels of capsule's basement, they wandered, to the living complex where Bulma and Trunks made their home. Past science labs and other places where those few still alive to help Capsule toiled. _

_In response to the widened midnight stare, Trunks answered, "Mom said she would be away all day with the group in the northern sector of Metro West… I'm worried that…"_

"_You know that she can take the tunnels, Trunks. There's nothing to worry about. So far nobody knows all the tunnels except for your mom, right?" said Gohan, reassuring him._

_Away from the momentary diversion of sadness, Gohan returned to the task at hand. Trunks needed reassurance and something far more than either of them voiced aloud. Only the ministrations that someone could provide in the privacy of indoors. Instinct and his own heart were leading him to take the younger boy with him into his inner sanctum. All protestations ceased when Gohan drew him into the small chamber he called his, and let the door slide shut._

_Trunks had crossed the threshold, and then turned to see Gohan leaning with his arm against the wall. Even though it was Trunks personal room, Gohan glanced about as if he owned the place. So reassuring was his steady gaze that the sense of leadership had cast its mantle over Trunks. Whatever his sensei wished he would do, and not just as a mentor, but something far greater. _

_A mischievous smile crossed his face, and then Gohan glanced down only a few inches to the hypnotic azure irises. They dilated to a small thickness of darkened blue, framed by lavender turned lilac by the light of the setting sun._

"_Gohan," Trunks whispered, squeezing a fold of Gohan's red vest in his fingers. Gohan spun about, and then pressed Trunks slender shoulders to the wall. A slight smile twitched up his lips and Trunks pulled him forwards. No questions were asked as Gohan hesitated only a slight moment and waited for the sign from the younger man that they had one another's trust._

_Gohan leaned down to drag his lips across Trunks, which were slightly parted. Threading his fingers through Gohan's short but dark locks, Trunks pulled him downwards, until Gohan leaned hard sandwiching him against the cool wall. His solitary arm wandered down to slid between Trunks back and grip him closer. A teasing young tongue darted out, touching Gohan's and enticing it forwards. Did the sly tempter have any idea of the effect he was having, Gohan wondered and marveled? Such softness now burned nova hot against his gi, and he wanted so much more. From the way Trunks yielded and teased with his sweet mouth, Gohan knew the answer._

_A nudge of Trunks body to the side spun them both so they rolled along the wall towards the low bed. A bit unsteady on their feet, Gohan pitched backwards, tugging Trunks with him so they both landed against a soft but firm surface. Now Trunks felt the soft grunt of Gohan's chest slamming into his, and felt his arm trapped under Gohan's back against the bedspread. That solitary arm still bound their bodies together, Gohan's fingers twisted into Trunks locks as Trunks other hand was gripping the spiked pieces of Gohan's hair._

"_Whoops," Trunks chuckled._

"_You're getting to be a tease, you know," Gohan rasped out, liking the feel of Trunks squirmy slightly on his body. He shifted his legs so they were on the bed, pulling Trunks along with him so they were nestled together. Glancing past Gohan's spikes of hair, Trunks saw his poster bearing the Periodic Table of the Elements, next to a glow in the dark star map, and other posters bearing schematics of circuitry boards. _

_The opposite view from Gohan's end was equally intriguing, yet he was too busy admiring what blocked it. Somehow staring past Trunks lavender sheen up towards the ceiling seemed a sin when he would much rather feast his eyes on the beauty astride him. Also noticing Trunks eyes diverting to the side was a bit distracting, so he reached up his hand to hook around Trunks shapely chin, admiring the contrast of his golden tanned skin on cream white. Visions of the youth bared to the waist during their workouts crossed Gohan's mind, and he chuckled._

"_Are you with me, Trunks?" Gohan whispered hoarsely._

_Trunks felt the tug on his chin and forgot any nervousness reflected in his momentary gaze away from what should be the focus of his universe. Here and now astride Gohan's strong sturdy body he felt something that had eluded him; shelter and stability. It was a sense of grounding that a relentlessly decaying world would not snatch it away from him and crumble to dust or disintegrate it in an alien blast. Such calm pauses of time were too fleeting, and Trunks mind quickly chastised him for losing even a second of what he was experiencing._

"_Always, Gohan," Trunks whispered back. Midnight depths heralded his full attention, and Trunks hair curtained his face as he leaned down to Gohan's head angling up. Fingers petted the shorter strands of black before migrating to the fronds of spiky hair reminiscent of Gohan's sire. This piece of a larger-than-life legend was clothed in the raiment of a hero. Irresistibly their lips again found one another's twisting lightly and delicately before firming to a sealing of mouths. Hesitance gave way to surety, and Gohan felt Trunks muscles relaxing in his body so it draped delectably over his own. Slim and hardening with solid muscle the younger half Saiyan had no idea how comfortable he was to his lover._

_Their warm breaths again passed each other in the merged caverns of their mouths. Reaching forwards Trunks continued to explore the treasure captivating him. For this time, Gohan was all his and his alone. He didn't have to share him with the world that ached for a savior since the imminent death of all Earth's warriors. Only Master Roshi remained of those that taught the martial arts, if the two occupants of Trunks bedroom were not included. It took much convincing to keep the old master hidden where he could somehow be of some use to those few people who might have the courage to study to become fighters. Unfortunately, even that would be hopeless without the aid of the last Saiyans on Earth._

_By its own volition, Gohan's hand slid under Trunks Capsule T shirt after pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. Gliding between skin and cloth it traveled its way up the bones of Trunks spine, stopping only shortly to massage each muscle along the column. Each small pressure of Gohan's fingers released a knot of tension left there by the stresses of the day. Trunks moaned softly, breaking the kiss only to surface for air and press his lips elsewhere over the angles of Gohan's firm jaw, steadily trailing towards the hollow of his shoulder and his ear. Gohan rumbled in his throat to feel the delicate lick of Trunks tongue along the rim of his right ear, hot breath searing his skin in short pulses. Then ensued the vibration of voice against bone when Trunks lay a kiss in the valley of his shoulder. _

_Slightly Gohan twisted his body, pulling Trunks with him. Together they rolled until their positions were reversed, and it was Trunks turn to see who hovered protectively above him. Solid muscular thighs bracketed Trunks slim hips, sitting delicately but pinning him down with the weight of his pelvis. Seeing Trunks mop of lavender hair pressed into the pillow, Gohan then smiled down at him reassuringly. That exotic slant to his eyes never ceased to intrigue him, and he thought nothing of the blend of features others would ascribe to Trunks father or mother. Rather he simply saw Trunks as an individual, not wishing to compare him to anyone else because there was no suitable standard. _

_Trunks reached up to pull at the neatly tied sash of Gohan's gi, and deftly unknotted it so it fell away. Angling his chest up, Gohan nodded and helped Trunks to pull the outer shirt off and over his head as he crossed his arms. Revealed then was the blue shirt underneath, glistening oddly like spun metal under the lamplight. Trunks analytical eyes admired the way it draped over the solid muscles each contour glistening softly. As the shirt dropped to the floor, it was soon joined by the thud of the weighted top. Gohan's weight lessened by the same degree, at least thirty-five pounds now removed. _

"_Your turn now," Gohan nodded, tugging at Trunks shirt. He shifted to one side, denying Trunks the comfort of his solid body weight so the lad could sit up. Together they pulled the T-shirt up and off, revealing his own bared chest. Now on more equivalent footing clothes wise, their exploration could continue. A pulling on his baggy pants from Trunks convinced Gohan to sit astride him again, and resume dragging his fingers over smooth ivory complexion. It glistened with the slight layer of sweat developing, and Gohan couldn't resist the urge to scoot down Trunks legs to give himself room to taste its saltiness. Blue eyes closed and Trunks arched his neck to feel the hot drag of Gohan's tongue lightly along his pectorals, then the crease between them._

_Two of the last of their kind together made a logical argument for the mutual attraction. Likes repelled in physics, but chemicals reacted that had the potential to form a stable system. As halves of a whole, he felt his body shift to press itself into Gohan's and they sought to complete what emptiness had been created in them. Layers of clothes commingled on the floor next to the bed as their owners sought refuge in what beauty and softness their growing love induced._


	3. Chapter 3

**Second Chances for Love**

By StarbearerTM

Author Notes: This story was written for the contest at Boxer and Rice. It was written with ideas given to me by Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

**_Chapter 3 Potential in Death_**

* * *

He could hear an incessant electronic beep grating at his ears. Creamy arms wrapped around his torso Trunks snapped his eyes open. In the glass of the mirror before him, he saw not only himself, but also see Gohan's arm clutched overtop and feel the press of his chin into his shoulder. Yet that noise intruding on his recollecting caused Trunks to grit his teeth in impatience. It grew far louder, tugging him reluctantly from the comfort of his memories to rude reality.

He recognized the cadence of the beep accompanied by the flashing red of the cabin lights. Cursing under his breath Trunks spun from his reflection and dashed across the flight deck to the ladder leading down to the controls. He slid down the spiral banister, his feet contacting the metal almost denting it in his impatience. With each step, the capsule dangling on a chain around his neck thumped and Trunks barely reached the panels glistening with hundreds of lights like fireflies. Rather all around him he saw the cluster of searing hot sparks past the viewports. He slid into the chair and glided his fingers across the keys of the coordinate programmer setting it to manual.

"Damn it… out in this sector?" he wondered. A quick burst of the retro engines veered him out of the path of what seemed to be a rogue trail of debris. Adrenaline pounded in his system and he saw more pieces of flotsam and rock gliding past the ship. Just what had happened to cause this debris field to spontaneously pop out of nowhere. Not to mention, why?

Then as suddenly as the field of gleaming particles had appeared, open space pushed them aside to reveal glowing bands of shimmering space dust. Keys clicked and soon yielded the answer on the navigational screen. He followed the trail of text that spelled out, "Theliera sector." A quick comparison to his mother's old star charts punched in long ago confirmed something must have diverted him through a system when he should be careening through open space. Even though New Namek was light years away, it was closer to Namek's original position then it was to Earth.

Yet it looked like a nebula. What was a nebula doing in the place of what would be a planetary system?

"How did I get HERE? I was supposed to bypass this system altogether!" he mumbled, and then checked the star maps. A quick tug on the astral scope to his eye and he blinked at the gleaming misty ring shimmering like a rainbow. Where there should be a G sequence star much like earth he instead saw a tiny white dwarf. More frantic glances through the scope clued him in on the structure of the rainbow nebula and the size of the gravity well.

"The star's dead," he whispered. Theleria Minor had cast off its outer layers and shed them after expanding to a red giant years ago. Now all he saw was the expanding layer of nebula drifting into space like a soap bubble blown out from a central location. Other calculations and observations told Trunks that only two of the planets out of five charted here remained.

On their way to Namek, his mother, Krillin and Gohan had added many star systems to the database of the Capsule computers. Even before they left Namek after being wished off by the Dragon Balls, Bulma had transmitted all her data by subspace frequency to Earth, so Goku's capsule ship could reach Namek safely to help them. In addition, his mother had downloaded all logs of his father's flight to find Goku into the banks as well, providing a thorough accounting of a vast array of planetary systems in the galaxy. When the Namekians had returned to their home world, telepathically Muuri had transmitted the location to Piccolo and Dende, so the coordinates were well known. Through the combination of weeks of number crunching, Capsule's battered computers and Trunks own calculations had charted the best and shortest route.

All the data though was twenty or more years old, and things can happen even in the lives of stars. Through the whole expanse of time on earth that the Androids had existed, a star once like any other had died and retired from a red giant to a white dwarf and a beautiful ring nebula. Even in death, it shimmered and cast its silent radiance on whatever planets still existed.

"What else has changed in twenty years out h ere," he wondered, fixing the gravity well calculations and steering the ship clear of the deviation. Although it had projected a much deeper dent in space-time, instead the ship encountered shallower one left by a system of a white dwarf, nebula, and two lifeless icy planets, as well as a ring of asteroids with which he had narrowly avoided collision.

Even in its death, the star would provide the basic building blocks for life, Trunks reflected, pressing his palm to the computer screen. Just what prompted him to think that he didn't question, rather he took the small revelation and added it to the store of others he accumulated on the long voyage. Gohan had seen new star systems at a much different stage in its life. Not this one. However, someone else had. Trunks own father Vegeta, a person he knew precious little about and had asked Bulma many times for information. She had little to say, either out of the desire to protect him for disappointment or for her own personal reasons. Gohan was the source he most trusted for data, because they had fought together on Namek.

Now his eyes beheld all the sorts of wonders that his lover had years ago. To peer at a phenomenon like Gohan had for the first time in trepidation brought the reality that much closer. Still keeping his hand on the screen beside the image of the rainbow soap bubble ringing the white dwarf, he reached his other up to clench around the capsule dangling around his neck. Fingering it he hoped to reclaim the safety of his recollections and recapture that elusive moment where he swore he could see Gohan standing behind him in that mirror.

A moment's concentration of looking at the Ring Nebula around its parent star opened the doors to his memories again. Freed from the urgency of the situation now corrected he slumped back into the chair again, running his other hand over the column of his abs to rest just above his waistband, before he diverted it to slide along his left leg. For a moment, he closed his eyes, remembering the rough yet wonderful pressure of Gohan's fingers along his back loosening every tight knot that night. Calling to recollection the fresh scent of fabric softener on his own clothes and sheets that were peeled back and tangled around bronze legs. Better yet the salty tang of essence clinging to his tongue as he…

Blood flooded his cheeks and he let out a small chuckle. Each first that they had passed was a milestone that he wanted to last the rest of his life. Storing up a treasure trove of memories to last the rest of a lonely and long life of serving the needs of others was the goal of those days of youth. Gohan forged enough images of the feel of touch and proximity that was the ultimate expression of love to carry him through what he would face. Yet it wasn't enough. Was it worth risking his own safety and the fate of his world on an elusive whim?

"You are worth it Gohan. You've given so much to the world, it's our turn now. My turn now. You gave me that last sensu bean and the chance to live. It's only fair that I return the compliment. Only fair that I bring you home…"

Wasn't he only doing what Gohan had done before? Gathering the dragon balls on Namek to call up a hero that earth sorely needed. Why with all he had learned in the year since Gohan's death alone, Trunks would fight at his side and not be a liability but an asset. The sudden prickling of hairs at the nape of his neck made him shiver, and he opened his eyes to stare at his own reflection in the computer screen. Superimposed over the nebula he could see his own angular features, and discern a familiar pair of eyes not too far from his own.

"Gohan," he mouthed before the image was gone, and all he saw was himself. Was his mind playing tricks on him in his long isolation? His mother had the company of Krillin and Gohan, while he only had those of his memories. Extending one long slender finger, he punched the button on the entertainment console, bringing to life the stereo system of the ship and breaking the silence. The vibrating bass interweaving with the complex riffs of electronic music and traditional symphony filled the emptiness for a time and he gathered his emotional energy to face his daily routine.

Breakfast was followed by an intense workout. Plunged into red the world would accelerate to another 10 G's, and push him to the limit. Just as Goku had done years ago, he used this opportunity to increase his own power in the vacuum of space. Two months without training was a long time, and he had gained too much ground to lose it by simply sitting around. That's why he wrapped his hands behind his head and lay on the flight deck, curling his abdomen up into his thousandth sit up. Why his skin gleamed oily slick and his long tendrils of hair were plastered on his forehead though gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His hair always grew fast, and he hadn't bothered to cut it since Gohan's death.

Only another day's journey would bring him to new Namek, or at least according to the blinking green numbers on the nearby computer display. It effectively set up a timer of how long the trip should take, and just how much time had elapsed. Though the little surprise of this morning had caused some deviation, he was still on course.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4 Arrival_**

* * *

Far across a galaxy, the curved sphere hurtled, towards its destination. Slowly New Namek's star pinged onto Trunks navicomputer, and he could peer at it hopefully through the round portholes on the craft's side. Every few minutes he felt compelled to rush and see, or at least confirm that it was still there. Hours later, the star blew up to the size of a ten-zenni piece, then to a quarter-zenni coin. Its yellowish light soon transfigured when a reddish small companion star slid out from behind and joined its twin in Trunks vision.

"Two suns. I'm not surprised they picked this system… or the Dragon did," Trunks muttered to himself, grunting as he caught sight of the new development in his latest sit-up. Shoulder length now, tendrils of hair obscured his vision and he swept them aside to tuck behind his ears with one hand. Something about the G sequence star joined by its small companion struck another chord in him. Both were necessary for light, but one would outlive the other. Fortunately, if one did expire, the other could absorb its stellar mass and continue to cast its light on the planets.

Narrowing angular sapphire eyes, he focused his thoughts on the system. On the deck below the computer pinged with digital displays indicating four planets in the system. Third out from the center was New Namek, and he felt the shifting of the craft indicating the computer was taking the coordinates and dropping the ship out of its main drive. Humming engines decreased their steady vibration of the deck, and Trunks pulled himself to stand. He easily walked in fifty earth G's towards the flight deck. While he could have cranked the intensity to a full 100, he figured if his wish were granted, then there would be time on the journey home for such matters.

Rather then sit in the pilot's chair, Trunks carefully remained standing and lightly brushed a button with one finger. Too great a pressure would crush the console under the weight of one hand. Hunched over the console slightly, his how broader shoulders struggled to not brace his other hand on the console. Rather he placed it on the wall next to it, feeling the wall give slightly with the force of his weight. Carefully he backed up, alerted to the fragile nature of his gravity-impressed world. He had tried such a trick before, and reached out his fingers inches from the buttons instead. Invisible sweeps of ki brushed out, nudging the right buttons enough so they were in no danger of destruction at the hands of their pilot.

Eyes tracked back and forth along the columns of ciphers bearing all the technical details. Not only had he improved his body, but also Trunks had continued to soak in vast amounts of knowledge through the computer databanks. Bulma's insistence on continuing his education reminded him remotely of how Gohan's mother had leaned heavily on Gohan for the same. Knowledge was power, especially when setting foot on an alien world.

Again, he nudged the comlink switch with his ki alone, opening his lips to utter words to anyone who would hear, "Calling Planet Namek… to anyone who will hear me… I need your permission to land… please acknowledge…"

Only static answered him. Trunks frowned, knitting lavender brows in confusion as to why he should even bother. Yet they might see him as an enemy, for contact had been lost for more then fifteen years. His fifteenth birthday had passed alone in space, and Bulma's taped transmission had been quite a nice surprise. Especially with the presence of a mysterious wrapped present that he came across in the cargo hold.

His white gloved hand extended as Trunks again opened the link. Along his blue-sleeved arm, he noticed how well the one-sized fits all armor worked. Gohan had carefully preserved the armor given to him by Vegeta on Namek years ago. From it, his mother had gained the precious formula for making a suit his father wore, but had not taken the time to make many more. Sliding his hand up the garment, he checked the segmented straps that held the breastplate in place. It was far less cumbersome then those that Gohan and Krillin had worn.

It only seemed fitting that he should now wear it. While his mother had fashioned armor for Vegeta, the scarcity of materials on the android torn world had made it nearly impossible to waste supplies making many others. All raw plastics and polymers had to go towards fixing buildings and proofing shelters. The only intact suit that was ready in time was this one. Static met his ears, and Trunks gritted his teeth to try again.

"Planet Namek, this is Trunks Briefs… please respond! I'm a friend! "

His heart pounded when words formed out of the white noise, "Unidentified spacecraft, we've tracked you for the better part of a day. What is your business on Namek?"

"Thank the gods," Trunks breathed. "Please, I'm from Chikyuu! I request permission to land. My mission is urgent!"

"That is highly impossible. We lost touch with Chikyuu long ago…"

"There was a disaster on my world," Trunks tensely explained. "Please, I'm Trunks Briefs, son of Bulma Briefs from Capsule Corporation! I do need to use the dragon balls but I've got a good reason for them…"

"Many seek to use the dragon balls, but few are worthy. What proof do you have of your origin?" asked the unnamed voice on the other end.

"Please… I must speak to Muuri," Trunks continued. "My name is Trunks Briefs! My mother Bulma sent me! I need help… for Gohan… and my world! Please don't close the link…"

Silence met his next pleas. Bulma had not wanted to risk sending a message from earth, lest the Androids hear them. Heart pounding he wondered why the stranger on the end of the link had let it go dead. Perhaps he should just land anyway and take what he wanted. However, his gut feeling told him otherwise. Be patient.

"Did you say Gohan?" asked the voice hesitatingly.

"Please, I'm one of Gohan's closest friends! He has been killed on Earth… my whole world is on the verge of destruction! I need your help desperately! Please don't turn me away! I need to speak to Muuri or Dende!" Trunks implored, his eyes gleaming brightly at the green disk of the planet slowly increasing in size.

"You are permitted to land. But be warned, if you are to deceive us, the price could be high," answered the Namekian. "I'm sending coordinates now."

"Thank you," Trunks whispered, wiping sweat from his face. As the unfamiliar namekian spoke the landing, coordinates Trunks entered them into the navigational unit. Within minutes, the retrorockets fired, shifting the ship so it veered towards a stable approach vector.

All around him the ship rattled. Trunks made his way to the control seat and carefully lowered himself in. He did not want to crush it with his increased weight, because the gravitron was steadily decreasing its pull. However, it could not suddenly cut out and risk damage to the integrity of the hull. An abrupt release of its influence would also be unnecessary stress on his body, and he wanted all his wits about him as he landed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Second Chances For Love**

by StarbearerTM

Author Notes: This story was written for the contest at Boxer and Rice. It was written with ideas given to me by Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

* * *

**_Chapter 5 Out of the Silence_**

Through the mint green skies a white trailed comet streaked. Ever closer it grew in size, watched carefully by the assembled group of Namekians. Among them members of the warrior cast stood in waiting, their puffy collars around their necks denoting their rank, while their chests were left bare. Elders and healers stood well behind them, their rust colored robes trailing the ground. The wrinkled face of the new eldest Namek shaded his eyes with one hand and motioned for them to all be ready.

Near him, a younger Namekian strode up, excitedly blinking at the shape of the ship. It seemed strangely familiar to him, reading ciphers on the side of the descending sphere that was not a pod, but something that had black and white markings. Smoke and steam misted from its surface as it slowed and belched fire from its lower circle. Then it slowed, blasting aside concentric rings of flattened vegetation before the prong landing gear touched spider thin legs into the Namekian soil. Like a four-legged insect it perched, the rounded bulk obscuring the distant mountains. Tense eyes struggled to read the semi familiar lettering of a world long out of touch.

"It says Capsule… 4," the younger aid to Muuri pointed excitedly.

"I haven't heard that word in years. If he hadn't said the name Gohan I wouldn't have even permitted him to come this far," Muuri mumbled. "I hope you're right about this, Dende."

"Gohan dead? It's too horrible to conceive," whispered Dende with a sad shake of his head. Antenna bobbed tensely when the wheezing groan of the landing ramp broke the silence. All in unison the Namek heads swiveled to track the descent of a strange blue and white armored figure quickly trotting down the ramp. White boots tipped in gold toecaps touched the spongy vegetation, and a pair of sapphire blue eyes regarded the dark ones of Dende.

"His eyes look just like Bulma's," Dende whispered, cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.

"Indeed," Muuri nodded. Leaning on his staff, he drew himself up to his full height, staying behind the blocking bodies of two baggy panted warriors.

Clearing his throat the stranger uttered words in Namekian just as he had over the radio link. Slowly the namekians nodded to one another and waited for Muuri's acknowledgement. Not much taller then Dende the Chikyuujin gave a low bow and stood still.

"You know our language and speak it well," Muuri called from behind the wall of his two strongest warriors. "But what further words have you of your good will?"

"Only the greetings of my world, or what remains of it," Trunks said somberly, lifting his torso out of the bow. "And the misery of losing someone we both care for. Gohan… is dead. All the people you knew who once fought to save Namek are gone. I'm the only warrior left…"

"Dead… Gohan dead? Then it's true?" Dende breathed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You have the eyes of your parent Bulma, Trunks Briefs. You may approach, but beware that we don't let the dragon balls be used for a frivolous purpose. Much has happened in the silence since Piccolo and Kami have lost touch. We presumed that some terrible tragedy had befallen your world. So you must understand why we are on our guard…" Muuri explained, still partly obscured.

"Please, he must be telling the truth," Dende whispered back. Before Muuri could catch hold of his sleeve, the young Namekian rushed forwards. Only the sideways step of a Warrior Namekian blocked him.

"Stay there, Dende," Cargo hissed. "The Elder hasn't given you leave to pass."

"Tell us why Earth has gone silent, Trunks Briefs. There is much we don't know before we can trust your words fully," said Muuri.

"Please, I've travelled so far! I implore you I need the Dragon balls. The longer we wait, the longer Gohan has less of a chance of coming back! I know that if a person is dead more then a year the Dragon Balls won't work!" Trunks said, his voice rising in pitch. Knees twitched under the spandex, but the sharp looks of the warrior nameks bade him freeze in place.

"What happened to Gohan, Goku and the others who helped save our people, Trunks Briefs?" Muuri demanded dark eyes boring into Trunks.

"Two androids… they're monsters… they've killed almost every human they've come across. Gohan was the last to fall… saving my life. All those before him died in the first fight… and only Gohan was able to survive. It all happened only months after I was born. For fifteen years, I have been struggling to survive. For fifteen years, my planet has been under a holocaust of those monsters. There's no way to stop them…"

"What of Piccolo? Did he perish in the attack? Otherwise why would he be here, Elder Muuri! His story sounds true. Why do we wait?" Dende pleaded. "Please… what happened to Goku? Is he dead as well?"

"He died from a virus before the androids even emerged," Trunks half growled. "We're wasting valuable time! You must believe me! For Gohan's sake… please!"

Tentatively Dende laid his hand on the arm of Cargo. "Please let me go to him… he sounds like he's in terrible pain. Gohan must mean as much to him as he did to…"

"Your words are urgent, but we must have time to decide the truth of them," Muuri shook his head.

"Muuri please, he sounds sincere. Can't you see or feel the pain from him? Most of us are healers and can tell when our services are needed… and that includes psychic as well as physical trauma," Dende explained, turning his head slightly to face his elder.

"I'll do whatever you ask," Trunks whispered, hanging his head. "Gohan means everything to me. Whatever it takes. I know there's probably some sort of trial I have to face. However, I will face it gladly. Just give me a chance!"

Muuri tentatively nodded to Cargo and Nauta, who both stepped sideways. Still they kept a close watch as Dende marched up to the quaking figure in gleaming white armor and spandex. Reaching out his hand, he touched Trunks shoulder. A second later, he recoiled as if burned.

"His pain is very deep," Dende whispered. "It's so fresh and so horrible, Elder."

"I see," Muuri murmured, and then exchanged glances with the other Nameks assembled. They strode forwards, still flanked by their guards to stand within only a half meter of Trunks. Soothing violet energies pulsed from Dende's fingertips, barely touching Trunks through the pores of his suit. Although it did little to ease the aching hole in his soul, it did bring some calmness to prevent his anger from exploding in frustration.

"Your energy is very strong," Dende nodded.

"Far more powerful then anything we've sensed, except for Goku when he fought Freeza on our old world. These Androids must be truly terrifying if you don't have the power to stop them, Trunks Briefs," Muuri sighed, his palm flattened and facing Trunks.

"It like I said. Most of the world is dying. My mom was building a time machine to try to send me back to stop this from happening, but I decided to take a chance and come to Namek. It's too late to revive the other warriors, but I had hoped I could bring Gohan back… to give us a fighting chance," whispered Trunks.

"I see," Muuri nodded. "You sound sincere. Very well, we will honor your request for the sake of those who saved us. Nevertheless, it is our fear that you may return to a world desolated and dead. Your world's guardian must also have died long ago to let such things get out of balance. One warrior alone can't bring your planet out of the brink of extinction."

"Gohan and I can handle the androids together. That's why I need the Dragon Balls now," Trunks said. "What do I have to do to prove myself? Some sort of trial? Would I be allowed to use my Dragon radar to find them?"

He pulled the flat object out from under his armor, to the surprise of the Namekains. Various spheres pinged lightly and urgently on its round gridded screen. Trunks held it on the palm of one gloved hand towards Muuri and Dende.

"Not so fast," Muuri's antenna twitched.

"What?" Trunks asked, biting his lip in frustration.

"Your world lacks a guardian. A difficult decision must be made," The elder continued, leaning on his tall staff.

"He means that if Piccolo is gone, then Kami is. One of us should go back with you to Chikyuu and become its guardian," Dende said.

"I can't ask you to risk anything else," Trunks shook his head. "I only came to use the dragon balls to bring Gohan back."

In response to this, Muri's frown melted into a smile. "I see you are indeed worthy. You think even now of the welfare of those you seek help from. "

"Thank you," Trunks nodded, only a slight smile twitching the corner of his lip.

"Dende, Cargo, go with Trunks Briefs and collect the Dragon Balls. We will let him make his wish. However, your world lacks a guardian. And a difficult decision must be made," Muuri reflected.

Tension released itself like a snapping rubber band, unknotting Trunks gut so he could breathe again. Months of stagnation despite training left him restless and anxious for moving further then the limited radius of the ship. He felt giddy and lightheaded as he rose gracefully into the air after Cargo and the young Dende. Fate smiled upon him to encounter the very childhood friend of Gohan. Another link to the past brought the reality of reunion ever closer. Even if Gohan DID come back, would he be enough to help Trunks rid their world of the Android menace.

Muuri had sewed doubtful seeds with his speech hours ago. Even as Trunks led the way with the pings of his Dragon Radar, he wondered what good only two warriors who could never tire. Flesh and blood had its limitations, even when it comprised that of Half Saiyan. Two members of the same 'tribe' could do anything, but was that just the arrogance of youth talking?

What amazed him at first was the sheer size of the spheres as they retrieved each other. There were only so many each could carry at one time, looping their arms around the volleyball sized objects that drove the breath from Trunks mouth. When they found the very first, the five-star-ball, he could hardly work up the nerve to place his white gloved hand on it. Such trepidation rapidly vanished in the urgency of their mission. He saw two hours later why Muuri had sent two others with him, not only to help face whatever small travails or creatures, but also to help him carry the orbs from place to place. Still they were surprised when he pulled out a small storage capsule and used it to contain their balls already collected.

He could not help think how fiendishly easy this all seemed after years of hiding from imminent danger. Was the quest a dream from which he would awake, trembling in the prison of sweat soaked sheets next to Gohan's warm body? Or worse yet would he thrust aside the blankets tangling his legs only to pat an empty space next to him that he grew used to being occupied by his lover? Ever since they had started training on that island and shared a first kiss, the two were rarely apart from each other. Like a lifeline, he had cleaved to Gohan, and in turn learned how he had saved the elder Saiyan's life.

Two of a kind that understood each other, Trunks reasoned, wading hip deep into a shallow lake to collect the sixth dragon ball. Easily he bent at the waist and grabbed hold of the slick surface. Only to feel a pinch on one finger. Cursing he shook aside the small-clawed creature resembling a crab on earth. It plopped beneath the undulating green surface, further startling Trunks from his reverie. Once he pulled the dripping wet ball with waterweeds clinging to it, he levitated easily out of the water towards his two companions. Dende's face shone with a smile as broad as his own did, Trunks reasoned.

"That makes six. One more and we're almost done," Trunks gave the thumbs up, tucking the four-star-ball under one arm. He stopped to glance down at it and remember what Gohan had said about the earth-sized version that had set fate in motion a lifetime ago. Cargo grunted and Dende himself held the dragon Radar so Trunks could click the button on his Dragon Ball capsule and add the newest sphere to their growing collection.

A half hour's flight later brought them back to the tall tower where Muuri lived. Trunks shook his head with the irony as he strode inside, dragon radar in hand and saw what sat at the Namek's feet. The One star ball gleamed in the light of the namekian sun that never set. Just like their original home world, there was no night on New Namek. Only an eternal soupy green intensity that reminded Trunks of pea soup. Not the fog, but the pasty porridge his mom sometimes cooked from their stock of rations. Gohan had once claimed it could double as wallpaper paste, and Trunks promptly had tried out the theory to Bulma's consternation. It took the better part of a morning and hard work for Trunks to wipe the green stains off the kitchen wall.

"Why am I not surprised," Trunks mumbled, rolling his eyes at Dende, who stood to his left. The namekian companion only gave him an enigmatic smile.

"I guess you figured it out," Dende replied.

"And this whole thing was a part of the test. You knew where they were all the time, but I guessed I'd be the one to go get them," Trunks sighed, clicking the dragon radar off. Muuri stood up from his chair and one of his attendants picked the ball up from the floor holding it in his clawed, t here fingered hands.

"Now you may make your wish. However, reconsider if it is the action that you truly wish to take. Only one person can be brought back to life. In addition, there are three wishes. Even if you do bring back the dead, their souls will return to the place where they died."

"You mean that he won't come back here?" asked Trunks, fingering the capsule.

"No. His soul will return to the last place he passed away," said Muuri as Trunks gritted his teeth.

"Damn, all this way for nothing," Trunks muttered. Then a second later, his head snapped up. "Would I be able to use a wish to return home to Earth?"

"If that is your desire," Muuri said. "And there is one more."

"Better get started then," Trunks agreed. Nodding to one another, they exited the chamber and emerged on the plateau for their next task.


	6. Chapter 6

**Second Chances for Love**

By StarbearerTM

Author Notes: This story was written for the contest at Boxer and Rice. It was written with ideas given to me by Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

* * *

**_Chapter 6 Three Wishes_**

His stomach trembled in anticipation as Trunks watched them place the Dragon Balls in a loose cluster nearby. With raised hands, Muuri chanted the namekian incantation. Trunks threw up his hand before his face to shield himself from the blast of wind and swoosh of energy that exploded from the heart of the balls. Powerful strokes of lightening split the once stagnant air, leaving a smell of ozone in his nostrils. Pea green skies blackened to the inky blackness of night, split by the flashes of lightening and the column of coruscating power shooting heavenwards.

Bulma had told bedtime stories of her quest with the dragon balls for as long as he could remember. Stories of how she met Uncle Yamcha and the other warriors, and the man she saw as a brother, Son Goku. A mile high the energy formed the shape of a dragon, hovering and staring over them with its tail stretching straight up.

"Porunga," Dende intoned. In a rumble like thunder, the Dragon's voice asked for the first wish.

Trunks did not need their prompting to utter, "I wish that Son Gohan be brought back to life!"

"Are you sure? For the soul of him will come to the place where he last lay…," said Dende.

"Can you bring the soul of Son Gohan here with the first wish?" Trunks asked.

"That is within my power to grant," the Dragon said.

"And tell Muuri to use the second to bring Gohan back to life," said Trunks.

"But without a body to return to it is useless," Porunga rumbled.

"Not a problem," Trunks said, reaching for the capsule around his neck. Dende watched wide-eyed as Trunks pressed the plunger and tossed it to the side. Out of the smoke arose a cylindrical tube about three meters long and one meter wide. The top was translucent, revealing a strangely shaped object inside.

"Is that…' Dende whispered.

"Well, what is your first wish?" the dragon growled impatiently. Muuri waited, his hands upheld as Trunks repeated himself, and Dende rushed over to peer inside the strange tube. His eyes widened to see the dark shape had a face and shoulders, and was in fact a person.

Muuri's namekian wish echoed in the thunder. The dragon's shout of "Granted!" echoed through the small village of rounded huts.

"Now, bring Son Gohan back to life!" Trunks shouted, his fist upraised as he stared up at Porunga. Not a second later, Muuri's voice converted the wish to Namekian syllables, almost whipped away by a gust of wind.

Dende jumped back when a stroke of lightening crashed dangerously close to the cylinder. Licking across its surface the waves of ki surged. A radiance almost as blinding as the aura surrounding Porunga nearly seared Trunks eyes. He rushed up panting to the cylinder, his heart pounding in rapid strokes.

"Granted!" the Dragon boomed.

"Wait a minute," Trunks panted, rubbing the shape of the cylinder with a gloved fist. His blue eyes narrowed in sudden anger to see no movement from within.

"Give it a moment," Dende whispered his own eyes wide with shock to see an old friend with a scarred visage and spiky hair, eyes closed as if in slumber.

"Do you have another wish or what?" Porunga interrupted.

"Just a minute," Trunks panted. "I have to know."

"Gohan," Whispered Dende., as Trunks urgently fumbled with the latches on the side of the container. Dende's fingers automatically worked at the other, and he yelped as if in paint at the prickling cold sensation biting his green skin.

"It's a cooler capsule," Trunks gritted, and then slammed his fist into the side of the thing. Again, Porunga shouted, and Muuri called to them.

"Dammit," Trunks mumbled, and ripped at the side of the container. Like paper, it ripped under his fingers, and he dug them in, tugging up the top half. Dende leapt back with a yelp as the lid shot off and over Trunks' shoulder. Now he could more clearly see the occupant lying with his hands folded over his breast, and his dark lashed eyes squeezed shut. Familiar battered garments covered his muscular body, only a slight twitch indicating any life. Yet Dende could feel the flicking of ki like a candle flame.

"Gohan! Please… wake up," Trunks urged, sliding his hand under the neck of the man who looked frighteningly similar to Goku, Dende reflected. Even the close cropped hair flared into an a array of curved spikes at the front, somewhat like Son Goku's, and judging by the way Trunks leaned over him with his arms wrapped around the man's torso, the nature of their concern was intriguing to the young Namekains.

Swirls of moisture distorted Trunks view as he moved his head to within inches of Gohan's lifeless lips. A faint puff of something hit his cheeks and he felt his heart stopping as he saw the blue and red clad chest rise and fall. Numb lips formed the words, "Gohan…" as he gently shook the other half saiyan's body.

"How much longer must I wait?" shouted the Dragon. "Do you have a third wish or not?"

However, Trunks barely heard the words of the booming Dragon for they were blurred by the faint groans emanating from the lips of someone thought dead. Against his arm, he felt the warmth returning to Gohan's lifeless body, and felt the twitching of neck muscles as the head flinched to one side and he struggled to cradle it. Voice breaking Trunks cried, "Gohan, please wake up!"

Dark lashed eyes fluttered, the graceful brows arching over them knitting into a frown. His other hand grasping the front of Gohan's half-torn gi Trunks choked back another sob. The burst of ki flooding his senses told him everything he needed to know. Especially when two dark eyes popped open wide in shock and Gohan's entire body flinched. Trunks toppled backwards, as Gohan flung his arm wildly against him.

"Wha…." Gohan gurgled, blinking in the strange shapes that swirled around his scarred face. Inside his chest, his heart pounded, and he saw the strange figures bent over him, and the strokes of lightening in a dark sky.

"Where… what the hell… is going on?" Gohan shouted, head snapping back and forth. He swung his legs around out of whatever surface he lay in, and a second look to the side told him it was some sort of bed with raised sides.

"Gohan!" cried Dende, grasping at the strange figure Gohan saw climbing to his feet.

"Gohan, thank Kami," cried a voice that he last recalled trailing off, pleading him to not leave him behind. Just before him bobbed two faces, one of an antennaed Namekian, and the other with long lavender hair. Tendrils of it partly obscured the intense blue eyes staring straight into his soul. Mind reeling Gohan quickly scanned the area and then arched his head backwards to take in the soaring figure of a great Dragon hovering over them all. Other blurs formed into the shapes of robed Namekians rininging seven glowing spheres, under a stormy sky slashed with strokes of lightening.

White gloved hands seized him as Gohan leapt to his feet and into a slightly defensive posture, spinning around in disbelief to take in his surroundings. The stump of his amputated left arm twitched as well, swinging its blue sleeve that flapped and blew in the wind. Just before him, those familiar blue eyes looked up and their owner spoke his name, "Gohan! It worked! You're alive again!"

Long lavender hair hung over the eyes, the rest of it gathered at the back of his neck. Gohan stammered in shock, blinking in disbelief at the young man who suddenly wrapped strong muscular arms around his waist. Tightly they latched there as he felt someone squeezing his ribs and burying their face in his chest. All Gohan could stammer was, "Trunks… is that you… what in the hell just happened?"

"Gohan! I never thought I'd see you again!" another familiar voice declared and he swung his face around to see Dende, a bit taller but unmistakable.

"Trunks! Do you want to use that third wish now?" echoed another voice. Gohan's already whirling brain took in the sight of Muuri with his arms upraised. Instinctively his arm tightened around the waist of whoever was squeezing him in a death hug. One quick glance down confirmed it must be Trunks due to the lavender hair.

"Send us all back to earth now!" Dende shouted to Muuri, as Gohan's mouth opened in a question.

"Wait a minute, someone explain just what's going on here!" Gohan demanded. Yet the syllables tumbling from Muuri's lips indicated a wish was being translated to Namekian.

Lifting his head from Gohan's chest Trunks said, "There's no time to explain, Gohan! Not till we get home…"

"But…" Gohan stammered as reality shifted and blurred. He half wondered if he was in hell and merely dying again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Second Chances for Love**

by StarbearerTM

Author Notes: This story was written for the contest at Boxer and Rice. It was written with ideas given to me by Truhania, to whom I owe many thanks for getting me started on this!

* * *

**_Chapter 7 Time Again for Victory_**

Rain was the last thing Gohan remembered before oblivion and hot lances of stinging fire. 17 and 18 had raised their hands and strafed him with thousands of bursts of energy. His last thoughts were of Trunks, willing his spirit to soar if his flesh was destroyed.

"I won't die. There's someone else who will live to carry out my wishes even if you destroy my flesh!" Gohan had vowed. At least that was what Gohan had planned in those last seconds of existence.

Now as the darkness yielded, he felt someone clutching him tightly, and he squeezed the warm body of Trunks tightly in his remaining arm. Black eyes met blue and the universe stopped. A quick snatching of transport pulled them out of one reality into another, dashing Gohan's already sensation-dazed brain into overload. Among the wheezing of air in his heavy chest, and the thumping of his heart against that of his companion, he hardly wanted to open his eyes again.

Sounds and smells filled his nose, along with the impact of dozens of tiny wet droplets from above. The crashing peel of thunder filled his ears, and the soft sobs of Trunks burying his face into his chest. Never wanting to let go, Gohan hugged him tightly in a death grip, his own throat forming great lumps. His lips whispered, "Trunks, this must be a dream or I'm in heaven or hell…"

"It's not a dream, it's real," Trunks answered, voice muffled into Gohan's gi. Just to hold him again and be held in turn was worth every ounce of pain. Neither cared where they were at that moment, for the intensity of reunion was of greatest import. Burying his nose in the crest of Trunks silky hair Gohan inhaled deeply of the boy's scent. Normally Trunks came to his mid chest, but the boy now was tall enough for Gohan to rest his chin comfortably on top of his lover's head.

His lover, Gohan thought, without hesitation. The one who had called his name across the dimensions of death and snatched him back from a distant realm of sunlight and tournaments to rude painful reality. Where Namekians clustered and a great Dragon soared over them all in a darkened sky. Somehow, Trunks must have taken him to Namek and used the dragon balls there to bring him to life. At what cost had that poor foolish wonderful boy done such a thing?

"Trunks, what did you do," Gohan asked seriously. He still imprisoned Trunks in the curve of his solitary arm, his dark eyes boring into the tear filled ones of his lover.

"I went to Namek and brought you back to life Gohan. Bulma wanted to build a time machine and have me go back and give your father Goku medicine… but…"

"Whoa, wait, slow down. I have been dead, remember! Please, I need to know what happened!"

"Are you angry I brought you back to life?" Trunks asked. Gohan tucked a long strand of hair behind Trunks ear.

"Damn your hair… it's grown so long," Gohan mumbled. "And you've grown too… how long…"

"Less then a year. Gohan, we should get out of the open…"

"This can't be earth," said a third voice, and Gohan tensed, pulling Trunks tighter to him as he glared down at their Namekian companion. Robes trailing the ground, the young Namekian wandered in ever-increasing circles through the ruined city.

Instantly Gohan tensed. Reluctantly he released Trunks from his embrace and stepped back. "We need to get the hell out of here. Now. There's no telling what's happened…"

"Right," Trunks said. "Dende, follow us."

"Dende? What the hell is he doing…?" Gohan stammered.

"No time, lead the way!" Dende agreed.

Reaching over Trunks grabbed Gohan's hand, suggesting, "We should go back to capsule right away. I only hope Mom's still all right…"

Not used to having Trunks take the lead, Gohan tensed yet wrapped his own body in energy. The three of them soon levitated upwards, and then blasted off at top speed after Trunks. Already the rain was beginning to clear, revealing the ruined cityscape beneath them. Gohan glumly recognized it as the very place 17 and 18 had killed him. Now he hardly wanted to think what could have happened during his death.

Soon the cracked dome of Capsule moved into view, and the trio sharply descended.

Through ruined tunnels, Trunks led the way, blinking in surprise to see no one there. "Mom…" he shouted. Gohan watched Trunks armor clad figure striding gracefully ahead of him, and admired the curve of his backside. Mentally he slapped himself for thinking such thoughts during what should be a time on guard. They needed to find Bulma, and get answers.

"Mom! I'm back!" Trunks shouted.

"Shh," Gohan hissed, grabbing his arm. "I'm sensing a very weak life form… this way…"

"Mom!" Trunks gasped, and wrenched his arm from Gohan. Boots pounded the cracked floor as he raced through shattered doors and long tunnels to the underground facility. In rapid pursuit, Gohan and Dende rushed to catch up.

Draped over a desk was a blue haired figure, with a few streaks of grey in her hair. Trunks raced to her side, and Gohan frowned to see the shape of a tall contraption much like a spaceship towering over her. Patched and torn coveralls and a lab coat covered the limp form of Bulma Briefs, and Trunks quickly struggled to shake her.

"Mom! Answer me!" Trunks shouted.

"Trunks… she's still alive," Gohan said, helping to lift Bulma's head and shoulders off the table. Bruises covered her face, and smudges of grease. Her body felt featherweight as Gohan and Trunks together lifted her and carried her between them.

"Maybe I can help," Dende said. Both Saiyans mentally slapped themselves and motioned for Dende to follow them.

"Is she hurt… what happened to her?" Trunks said.

"She seems to have no broken bones," Gohan muttered, helping to lay her down on the nearest bed once they exited the lab. "Dende…"

"Right," the Namekian nodded. His hands moved within inches of Bulma, whose blue lashed eyes were shut fast. Her body seemed painfully thin, her wrists almost emaciated.

"It looks like she's half starved, but I don't see any evidence of any attacks," Gohan glanced around. Trunks moved towards Dende, but Gohan stopped him.

"Don't worry. Dende is a healer. He can help her. Just let him tend to her while we figure out what's going on…" Gohan said.

"That thing in there is the time machine," Trunks said. "But all the people who were here, are gone… she's all alone!"

"Damn… I wonder…" Gohan mumbled. Closing his eyes, he expanded his perceptions to try to sense for any living things. Only faint flickers of life here and there gave him the answer.

"She'll be all right," Dende announced. "She's just very hungry. Is there any food?"

"I'll look for some. Thank you!" Trunks nodded, rushing off towards the lab. "But we need to secure this place in case we're attacked…"

"Right," Gohan nodded, rushing off in another direction. Dende sighed, glancing down at the wrinkled face of another friend who he never thought he would again see. Judging by the visibility of her cheekbones and her body, she had aged rapidly. Namekians had long life spans compared to many life forms, but he had never asked Gohan how long humans lived.

Together Trunks and Gohan secured the place. They found no evidence of Android attacks, merely the remains of people who had once sheltered there. As far as Gohan could surmise, they have long left for a safe haven, or else had been picked off one-by-one protecting Bulma as she built the time machine. Turning from the defense console, he punched in the code for any bots. He was glad to see power still flickering in the old generators. Cameras flickered from dozens of cracked and twisted places.

He felt the life force of Trunks returning from the direction of the kitchen, and then moving towards his mother's bedroom where Dende's ki remained. Walking through the lab, he stopped to peer up at the strange craft with prong like legs and a domed cockpit. After he moved over to examine the blueprints spread out on Bulma's desktop, he realized they only looked half finished. Tools lay scattered and Gohan fingered his chin with his solitary hand as he poured over them. It had been a while since he bothered with physics and electronics, but he easily picked up the gist of the equations.

"A time machine. Bulma you have outdone yourself. However, you were working here all alone while Trunks was in space. What were you trying to do? Can you really cheat fate?" he mused.

Bulma would recover, for she was merely asleep. Gohan knew it would only be a matter of time before they would again face the Androids. In his heart, he knew once he saw the face thought he would behold in years that anything was possible. Above all, he knew that he and Trunks would be together to face it come what may. In their reunion they would succeed where alone, either had failed. Fate had blessed Gohan with a second chance through the force of their love. If love could transcend death, then victory was possible no matter what. For the last time he looked at the time machine, and wondered if, it was necessary after all. Yet it was their decision. Moreover, he and his lover would not be separated again by death, Gohan vowed.

The end or the beginning.


End file.
